Elegy
by summerfell
Summary: Hiei deals with death in his own way. HxK, character death, blood, bath tubs, essentially my own sick mind at work. One-shot.


**Author's Note:** Em, I just wanted to write this. Take it anyway you want.

**Disclaimer:** I wish they were, but these youkai ain't mine.

**_Elegy. A mournful, melancholic and or plaintive poem; especially a funeral song or a lament for the dead_**

Oh snap, what a revelation it was, like sunlight streaking through squid ink, that his hair can actually be shaved. His fur. Matted, stinking mess of black bristles, cut cleanly and smoothly by a blade held by this plastic handle, fell like chunks of shaved chocolate on the damp sink; some on the tiled floor.

See Hiei, just run it down, slowly. He allowed himself a gleeful chuckle. The low noise, motor sputtering into working condition, bothers him though, and he immediately stops self-consciously. Shhh, mother might hear.

He puts the blade back in the sink glass, glad with the soft but assured 'clink', followed by the definite 'click' of closing the medicine cabinet. He steps off the stool (it's a weakness in human genealogy, the lack of variation in height) and begins the process of disrobing, careful to put his clothes on the hamper on the side. If the clothes fell on the floor, you could slip and don't blame me when you bang your head on the bathroom tiles. Now think – if you lived alone, it would be days before your naked body rots enough to overcome the smell of shampoo, and you don't want your neighbors to find you swimming on a floor of your own caked blood, would you?

He steps in the bath tub carefully, letting out his breath slowly as the heat from the water slowly embraced his legs. He sunk slowly, step by step, and a satisfied sigh escapes his lips; the bath feels like a feathered bed, and he surrenders fully, resting his head on one end of the cold tub and putting his feet up the other. He uses his small hands to swish water carefully on his stomach; look, Hiei, if you scoop water and just raise your limbs, it will run like a line through your arm and cross your chest until it reaches your heart. That's how blood flows and that's why we have life.

He turns his hand, and the line didn't flow; the scoop of water empties out from his palm and drips on the water. The 'plop' bounces off the walls, going back and forth like a fly inside a car. A way out, a way out; where is it? The grass and greens are clearly out there, why can't I fly free? Open the windows Hiei. It will die in here.

He burries his hand back under the bath. He must be clean. He must bathe. It was Saturday, bath day, and if he didn't submerge himself in suds and soap and bubbles, everyone might think he's one of those feral kids on the tabloids. Damn neighbors. Always in our business. Nosy pricks.

That's not so nice, Hiei, but a small smile escapes his lips.

He closed his eyes and when he opens them again, his jaw felt tight. He eyes his toes; all wrinkly. He wiggled them. Wiggled them. Wiggled and wiggled until it sprung loose, finally, just like the way he broke free of the water, stood up and enrobed himself. Whoops, don't forget to unplug the drain love, or else mosquitoes will lay eggs on the water.

Hamper, plug, flush, medicine cabinet. Check.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped back inside the bedroom; sweet, cool and somewhere in Boston a girl was saving somebody's life by jumping on the train tracks and rolling him to safety.

He wanted to roll with her, roll underneath the bed, into the sea, across the desert and lie in cold gravel with a hum under the vibration of a speeding train. Into the sunset. Into the green. Into the red. Where was it? If he rolled and rolled, perhaps then…

* * *

><p>He woke up in heaven.<p>

He blinked carefully, and slowly heaven came into focus.

The silver sky was wisps of hair. The bed of clouds he lay in was soft, white garment.

"… almost sealed. You have to release it Hiei, before you lose it forever…"

He realized that a hand was slowly stroking his forehead. He stood up and broke free of the embrace he seemed to be in.

"I told you not to come back here."

The silver-haired figure sat softly on the carpet of the bedroom floor and stared at him with golden eyes.

"Did you hear me, Hiei? The jagan you sewed up; the wound has almost fully healed. If it does, you won't be able to reopen it."

"Get out before I make you."

The figure bent his head down and shook his head.

"Funny, I told myself I wouldn't anymore," he chuckled. "But, apparently, no matter how many times you die some things never change…"

The figure looked back up, golden eyes slightly moistened as he looked at Hiei directly.

"Hiei, come on… what are you still doing here? Come back to Makai with me-"

"Shut up-"

A hand. Long slender hands, were suddenly on Hiei's cheek. Drawing him in. Drawing him close. Until his lips were grazed with the figure's own. Soft lips. The smell of earth and roses and forest musk circling overhead, like a vulture about to swoop in.

It was bigger. The lips engulfed him. Ate him without permission.

"Stop! You're ruining it!" Hiei growled.

There was, suddenly, blood on the silver-haired figure's face; Hiei looked at his hands and saw the same shade of red on his fingers.

No…

"Pretending to be him won't get him back," the figure said as blood dripped from scratch marks on his cheek. "Because _I'm_ still here. I was never gone. Hiei, please, it's me Kurama!"

"Don't ruin it…"

"I love you…"

The blood on his hands, suddenly grasping something warm and throbbing and soft, dripped on the floor in unison with the silver-haired figure's.

* * *

><p>Oh snap, what a revelation it was, like sunlight streaking through squid ink, that his hair can actually be shaved. His fur. Matted, stinking mess of black bristles, cut cleanly and smoothly by a blade held by this plastic handle, fell like chunks of shaved chocolate on the damp sink; some on the tiled floor.<p>

_See Hiei, just run it down, slowly._

Hiei looked at the owner of the voice; his redhead. His human. Kurama, who smiled at him with bright green eyes.

The smile brought Hiei to life, and he let out a soft chuckle in return.

_Shhh, Hiei, mother might hear._

He immediately clammed up in obedience.

_Now it's time for your bath._

"No…" Hiei whispered.

_Is something wrong love?_ the redhead asked, frowning.

"No, no," Hiei rushed to make his lover feel better. He swore to never make Kurama sad again. "It's just – a youkai came to attack you today. I killed him instantly, you're safe now, but I put his body in the tub…"

_You're really my prince,_ Kurama said, giving Hiei a deep kiss. _But you used up most of your power, I see,_ a hand brushed Hiei's forehead. _We'll have to sew that back up._

"You can help me shut it down back in the bedroom," Hiei said shyly.

_So be it,_ Kurama nodded.

"The youkai-" Hiei suddenly remembered.

_He will rot in his own caked blood, it will be days before anybody notices,_ Kurama reassured him.

They walked back to the bedroom with Kurama holding his hand, and as they sat on the bed together and as Kurama used a needle to sew the eye on Hiei's forehead shut, Hiei closed his other eyes.

He lost Kurama before… he wouldn't let anyone ruin what they have now ever again. Whatever it took.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Well. Whatever. I was just in a plaintive mood and wrote this in one shot. Your reactions please: leave a review!


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